


Easy Pickings?

by Batfink



Series: Good Omens Flashfic [8]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Flash Fic, Gen, Minor Character Death, Protectiveness, Short, Short One Shot, except not really, they just got smote
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-12 22:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20139121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batfink/pseuds/Batfink
Summary: He heard Aziraphale's voice before he saw him, but it wasn't his usual voice.  It was the voice of a General in Heaven's Army.  It had a physical weight to it that Crowley could feel pressing down on him, even though it wasn't directed at him.  “I told you to leave this city and never return.”





	Easy Pickings?

Crowley noticed it the second he stepped out of the Bentley in front of the bookshop. The unmistakable aroma of demon. He glanced at the shop windows, but all the blinds were drawn. The closed sign turned out on the door.

Quickly, he moved towards the side of the shop and hurried down the alley, stopping when he came to the official door for the flat upstairs. He put his hand on the door and the lock, recognising him, acquiesced to allow him entry. He slipped into the stairwell and across to another door that was also willing to allow him to slide through and into the back room of the shop.

He heard Aziraphale's voice before he saw him, but it wasn't his usual voice. It was the voice of a General in Heaven's Army. It had a physical weight to it that Crowley could feel pressing down on him, even though it wasn't directed at him. “I told you to leave this city and never return.”

Crowley slunk towards the back room door and peeked out. Aziraphale was glowing, almost blinding. His wings spread out, barely fitting inside the shop.

A demon was on their knees in front of him, one arm stretched out and twisted in Aziraphale's grip. Aziraphale's other hand was clamped to the back of the demon's neck, holding them in place. “Why did you return?” He demanded.

The demon sneered, twisting in Aziraphale's unrelenting grip, trying to turn to face him, but then flinching from his brightness. “Easy pickings.” The demon sneered.

Aziraphale's wings fluttered angrily. “I told you this city is under my protection.”

“You don't scare me.” The demon growled attempting to stand but Aziraphale easily pushed him back down.

Aziraphale sighed. “Yes, I suppose that's the problem isn't it?” He released his grip on the demon's arm and in the blink of an eye, he had snapped the demon's neck. The body fell forwards and disappeared before it hit the ground. Aziraphale sighed again, fluttered his wings out of the mortal realm and straightened his waistcoat, the glow around him dissipating.

Crowley, impressed, slipped through the back room door and approached his Angel. He got three steps into the shop before there was a bright burst of light and Crowley was suddenly slammed up against a bookshelf, an angelic hand around his throat.

“Oh, my dear boy.” Aziraphale released his grip. “I'm terribly sorry, you startled me.”

Crowley, himself somewhat startled took a moment to reply, but when he did it was with a teasing retort. “You're sexy when you're angry.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, then smirked. “Oh, is that my problem? No wonder all these young demons don't have the sense to be afraid of me.”

Crowley laughed. “That one may not have been afraid of you, but by the time they've been chewed out for getting discorporated, they'll certainly be afraid to return to London.”

Aziraphale smiled. “That's good. Cheeky little git, coming up here and messing up all my good works. Really, I'm surprised you didn't have a word with them yourself.”

“Oh, I did.” Crowley grinned. “Who do you think sent them here in the first place?”

Aziraphale gaped at him. “Crowley!”

“What?” Crowley asked all innocent like. “It's not like I could discorporate the little twit myself is it?”

Aziraphale huffed. “I suppose not.” He gave Crowley his disapproving face for a moment longer and then brightened. “Tea?”

“Don't mind if I do, Angel.”


End file.
